


Well That Was Romantic

by emilygk02



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Good times, One Shot, hand stuck in vending machine, lol what am i doing, otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 18:38:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8113057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilygk02/pseuds/emilygk02
Summary: Just your average day with Percy Jackson at the YMCA. Workouts to do. Girls to meet. Vending machines to get stuck in. Yep.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Ok so this is my first work that I uploaded to ao3, and I really hope you like it. tbh I did not know what I was writing?? But I'd love to hear back on what you liked or what I can improve on too! Have a lovely adventure with Percy at the YMCA

“Yes mom. Yeah. No. I’m not joking. Yeah, I’m at the Y. No mo- mom I need your help. Yes, I’m completely serious. Yes mom it’s veeerrrryyy urgent I seriously need your help. No, I’m not going to call maintenance, do you have any idea how embarrassing that would be? Okay, yes, just, please hurry. Yeah mom ple- yes mom ok- yes I love you too just hurry please.” I press the screen and hang up on my mom with an annoyed sigh.  
Nice going Percy, you just can’t live without your chips can you. You just have to stick your hand into the fucking machine, huh. These aren’t even the flavor you like! Sour Cream and Onion? ew!  
“Idiot!” I hissed to myself.  
“Uh, excuse me?”  
Shocked and confused, try to spin around to see the stranger who just spoke, and only succeeding in whacking my head on the plexiglass of the vending machine. “Owww,” I moan, quickly bringing my hand up to my head, forgetting it was stuck in the machine, and just succeeding in making my situation worse.  
“Did you just call me an idiot?” says the mysterious voice in an accusatory tone.  
A girl. The voice is definitely feminine, and I crane my head to get a good look at who is seeing me at the lowest point of my life. It really doesn’t help that she is just about the most beautiful human on this planet.  
She is wearing a regular black tee, tucked into a light pink mini-skirt, hair tied up in a ponytail. She tops off the whole look with black high-top converses. He thinks of how he must look in his mis-matched gym clothes, compared to her clean look.  
She is staring at him with piercing gray eyes that look, and feel, like an oncoming storm. Then I realize she’s waiting for an answer.  
“Oh, uh, no, no I was just, uh, talking to, uh, myself.” I stammer, mumbling before the sentence is over.  
She juts out her hip and places a hand on it and raises one eyebrow accusingly.  
She looks like she is about to insult him about being stupid enough to stick his whole arm in a vending machine, but then just doubles over laughing, saying in between fits, “How in the world did this happen?!”  
I couldn’t quite comprehend what was going on, so I just stare at her, disbelieving.  
“Really,” she says, “I want an explanation.”  
I look down at the floor and start mumbling. “I came in, and I just wanted a snack, ‘cause I was hungry, ya know. And so I put in my two dollars, punch in the code for the chips I was getting, and half way through, the machine just stops working! Like, all the lights in it went out and everything! But I was still, like, really, hungry, so I tried to get the chips out manually, and here I am now.” I finish with a deep sigh.  
The girl looked like she was 10 seconds away from being brought to tears.  
“That is just too perfect!” she exclaims. Then, unbelievably, she pulls out her phone and takes a picture.  
“Uh,” I scoff, “ that is incredibly inconsiderate!”  
She then seems to realize that what she is doing is not exactly civilized, and gives herself a shake and looks around, taking in the scene.  
“Have you called maintenance?” she asks, looking back at him with those eyes.  
“Of course I haven’t. Do you have any idea how much that would hurt my pride? But I did call my mommy, and she’s on her way now.”  
“Your mommy?” the girl asks.  
My cheeks flare with embarrassment, the heat spreading down my neck. Mommy? Really?, I mentally scold myself.  
“Uhhh”  
She shakes her head, “Nope, nevermind. I am not going to ask.”  
“Well, if you’re not going to call for help, other than your mommy, would you like me to help?” she questions, looking at him once again with one eyebrow raised.  
I looks at her with panicked eyes. “What do you mean, help?” I reply, suspiciously.  
“One should not answer a question with another question,” she cheers, strutting towards me with glee spreading across her face.  
“No no nonono. Don’t you dare. Back away now or else I will bite your arm off,” I warn, snapping my teeth to prove my point.  
“Oh come on. I’m just going to try pulling you out.”  
“NO!” I shrieks. In a desperate move, I kick around and flail my free arm. She takes a step back, startled. Then she composes herself, and spins around, starting off down the hallway.  
“Fine!” she yells over her shoulder, “I’ll just get the custodian!”  
“Wait wai- waittt,” I call back, “Don’t, please. Come back.”  
“Are you sure?” she asks questioningly, watching him out of squinted eyes.  
He sighed, “You have no idea how much it hurt me to say that, yes, of course I’m sure.”  
“Just checking!” she says in a sing-song voice, skipping back towards me.  
When she reaches me, she gets to work immediately. She grabs me from underneath my free arm with both hands. I am suddenly very self conscious of how sweaty he must be, after sitting in the un-air conditioned hallways of the local YMCA in the middle of August.  
I looks up to her, cheeks burning, and finds her staring back at me, searching my soul with those determined, steely gray eyes of hers.  
“On the count of three,” she interrupts, before he gets lost in her eyes.One, tw-,”   
Wow, she must look very intimidating when she’s ma- “OWWWW”, I shout, violently ripped out of my thoughts by the girl tearing his arm out of his socket. My eyes get all misty and I think I’m going to start crying, oh I better not sta-  
“Oh come on, cupcake, don’t start crying,” I make a face at her. “Just one more tug, I think.”  
She looks at him with a question in her expression, and he fights back, looking back up with puppy dog eyes. She hardens her gaze and he can’t help but think that she is actually moderately scary now, and he would not want to see her more mad. So he sadly nods, and she gives a small look of pity.  
“One, two, th-,” she counts before wrenching his arm out again. I make a small sound of protest, before I feel my arm dislodging from the carnivorous vending machine.   
She must have overestimated the force needed for this tug, because once he is free from the machine, they are both flying backwards, a tangle of limbs and curses crashing to the ground. Somehow, the girl ends up underneath him, and their faces are 5 inches apart. For a hot second, he thinks they may kiss, but then the girl starts laughing.  
She has such a wonderful laugh.  
Her laugh is so infectious, that in no time, they are both cracking up, and I am rolling off of the girl so we can both breath.  
As soon as I get myself together, I stand up and offer her a hand, and she takes it, pulling herself up.   
With a sarcastic grin on his face, he states, “Well, that was romantic.”  
“Oh yes. What really helps the moment is your bleeding arm, huh.” she responds. This makes me look down at the tortured arm, and my eyes widen in surprise. My whole bicep is scratched up, only minor cuts, luckily. But what really gets me is the bruise circle forming all the way around my arm, from where the vending machine had tried to cut the arm off.   
“I’m guessing that you’re not gonna want to go to the nurse for the sake of your precious ego are you?” she says sarcastically.  
“Uh, yeah, no.” I reply.  
She looks at him, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Well, then. May I ask you out to lunch, after that exceptionally intimate moment?”  
I look back at her, a troublemaker’s grin spreading across his face. “It would be rude not to, wouldn’t it?”  
“Exactly.” she says, holding out her hand to shake. “Annabeth.”  
I take her hand, noticing the hard calluses on her palm.  
“Charmed.”  
“Percy? Wha-,” his mom exclaims as she rounds the corner. “What happened?”


End file.
